


Do Unto Others

by AngeliaDark



Series: Underfell: A.D. Edition [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, OCD Behavior, PSTD, Parent/Child Incest, UF Papyrus, UF Sans, Underfell AU, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion piece to Full Circle, in Papyrus's side of the story.</p><p>'In this world, it's kill or be killed'.  Papyrus learned that early in life, and applied it to everything he ever did after the lesson was learned.  It was his basis for living, his tool of control.  But pieces of his old life refuse to die, no matter how much he drowns them in hate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Has Been Done To You

**Author's Note:**

> *looks at the tags* Why do I do this to my fave?  
> And like Full Circle, the material is heavily inspired by the Tool song 'Prison Sex'. Good song, better album.

Papyrus had never known the meaning of the phrases 'blinding pain', 'blinding anger' and 'blind numbness' before all three hit him all at once, and so hard he thought he would never be able to see straight again.

It took everything he had to not scream as piercing static screeched in his skull, honing in on the throbbing crack over his right eye socket and only making it worse.

...no.

What made it worse...was that HE did this.

His big brother, the one good thing in this hateful, wretched world...who always promised he would never become like the other Monsters who would hurt them, no matter what...yelled at him, pushed him, threw him against the wall, and then...

...and then...

Numbness.

That was what Papyrus felt now. He felt numb to it all. He was too hurt, too angry, too full of HATE to feel anymore.

_'Brother promised me...'_ he thought bitterly to himself as he glowered at his brother, half-blinded by red marrow pooling in his eye socket. _'...he promised me he wouldn't be bad...he promised me we would be the good ones...me and him, together...he lied...he LIED...HE LIED. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM.'_

**"I HATE YOU."**

He paid the traitorous brother no heed as he grabbed the puzzle cube—the last gift Sans gave him—and stood, walking to his bedroom with the toy clutched tightly in his hand. The numbness was merciful in the way Sans was not as he managed to get to his room and shut his door and lock it before passing out on the floor.

* * *

_PAIN_

_PAIN_

_PAIN_

_PAIN_

_NOTHING_

_BUT_

_PAIN_

Papyrus forced his hand away from his cracked skull, biting down harder into his pillow to keep the screams of agony at bay. Like any cut or bruise, once the initial sting wore off, the REAL pain set in, a never-ending throb that even his sleep offered no respite from.

Unbearable times like this made him want to cry out for Sans, to beg for relief from the pain, but THAT only made him hold onto his convictions even tighter. _'HE did this to me!'_ he thought, tremors of anger joining the pain shakes of his small frame. _'I don't want him anywhere NEAR me!'_

He had ignored the food and medical supplies left at his doorstep every day. He fought through the pain and went about his day like Sans wasn't even there, keeping his distance and refusing to acknowledge the older Skeleton's words.

_'He doesn't really care. If he did care, he wouldn't have done it! HE DID THIS TO ME.'_ He replayed that mantra in his mind to drone out anything Sans said to him, to numb the other's presence in the room. He wouldn't touch what Sans tried to give him. To acknowledge it would mean forgiveness and that was NOT something this hot, heavy weight in his soul would allow.

Papyrus was numb to Sans's attempts at reconciliation, but he was not stupid. Every day in that broken mirror in his room he would see the crack over his right eye socket, notice the discoloration of his skull around the crack, feeling his own HP drop if he did anything more strenuous than his daily business. He didn't know how to fix broken bones, and even if he did, he didn't have the magic reserves to do it. At some point, he knew that he would need help.

_'But NOT from HIM.'_

He was tired of Sans sleeping against his door, so he took to leaving it open most of the time, but his refusal to acknowledge Sans never waned. At least Sans seemed to be taking the hint, but his constant presence only served as a slow stoking to the anger that bled from his soul and into his bones, making his injuries hurt more and giving Papyrus even more reason to despise being in this house, always a stone's throw from the older Skeleton.

There were days he didn't even feel well enough to come out of his room; today was one of those days. His bones were warm—too warm. His skull crack had a constant dull throb with a dark gray complexion around the cracked area, and the entire right side of his skull would seize with pain if he touched it. To distract from the pain, Papyrus turned the puzzle cube in his hands, as he had been doing for the past month since the incident occurred.

Puzzles fascinated him. They always had. He liked taking chaos and putting it into neat, tidy order, be it with words, numbers, or shapes. Putting things into order made him feel good inside, put his mind at ease, and provided a distraction against this world around him.

On days when he was waiting for a new puzzle book or toy after finishing all his others, he made up a game where anything he found would be a puzzle. In doing so, his trial-and-error in cooking made him improve by leaps and bounds. The house was pin-tidy and the shelves held every book neatly without anything being crammed into place.

When even that was done and no longer amused him, he turned to people-watching for puzzles, and found his niche. People were definitely the best kind of puzzle. Everyone was so different, but trying to fit into their little places down in the Underground while fighting to survive.

Not everyone in the labs were downright cruel. Some of the Monsters there would make an effort to be less harsh with him, would sneak him small snacks when Sans was too busy to remember, and would loudly announce when his father was going to be around to give him a chance to look busy. In a world where it was kill or be killed, such small kindnesses stood out, and Papyrus would often puzzle over why EVERYONE didn't make such an effort to make things better.

NOW...he knew. Being a kind, helpful little brother all his short life didn't stop his skull from getting cracked. Being kind and helpful didn't stop anyone from getting killed down here. Only playing this cruel game kept them alive.

And that was the puzzle of why everyone was so cruel being solved. Of why Monsters who had clear eyes suddenly having them turned red. It was all so simple...so stupidly simple...

A particularly sharp throb from his eye socket made him fumble the puzzle cube and clench his hands into it tighter, taking deep breaths until the throbbing would ebb away. The pain spikes were getting longer and more intense, and he wasn't foolish enough to think that it would just go away. It was getting worse, and he was going to need help soon...

The sound of an unfamiliar voice in his home snapped him out of his pain, and he welcomed the distraction. Stuffing the puzzle cube into his sweater pocket, he crept out of his bedroom and peered over the landing, seeing his father down below with Sans.

What was he doing here? He must have come after Sans not going to work for so long, checking in on them. He shifted over to the top of the stairs, pausing when Sans looked up and saw him. Their father turned to follow Sans's gaze, and Papyrus saw his red eyelights shrink when he saw him...or rather, his skull crack.

"...oh my," his father said, walking to the bottom of the stairs, holding up a hand toward Papyrus. "Papyrus, come here and let me look at that."

Papyrus gripped the banister tightly as he made his descent, his movements weak and shaky from how much HP the skull wound was draining from him, and finally came to a stop when he was eye-level with his father.

Gaster raised his hand and gently touched the crack, sending a sharp jolt of pain through Papyrus's skull. Papyrus barely concealed a flinch, his hand clenching around the banister as he fought to not react to the pain. Gaster's phalanges felt cool to the touch on his heated infected skull, reminding Papyrus of just how bad it must have gotten. He saw his father frown and look over the wounded area before reaching out and scooping him up effortlessly.

"Let's go to my lab and we'll get that looked at," Gaster said, resting his hand on Papyrus's back. Papyrus let out a shaky sigh, feeling his strength leave him entirely. His father, scary as he was, would take care of him now, would take the pain away...

He tensed up when he heard Sans protest, but his father simply rebuked him, tucking Papyrus's face into his shoulder as he walked out of the house and off to the labs.

Papyrus faded in and out of consciousness in between spikes of pain in his skull, managing to retain his consciousness after a long time, when the pain was settled down to a dull throb, the hot feeling from the crack having ebbed back a little. He let out a sigh of relief, staring up at the ceiling as he lifted a hand and touched around his eye socket. The pain wasn't nearly as bad, but Papyrus could still feel the thick crack that ran from his cheekbone up to the crown of his skull.

He was going to have this forever, if his father couldn't fix it. Maybe he HAD waited too long to get it treated. He looked over to the side, seeing his father arranging something on a shelf, and felt a sudden shyness. He'd never spent this much time with his father before, and never alone...how was it going to work, living with him? He was still very good at keeping things neat and clean...if that could work out, then—

"Oh, you're awake."

Gaster was looking at him, eyelights glowing softly in the dim lab as he finished arranging things on the shelf. The elder Skeleton walked over, taking Papyrus's skull in his hands and turning it to look at the crack. "I managed to stave off the infection, but it's too late to do anything about that crack," he said. "And what a pity. You had such a beautiful skull."

Papyrus held back a sniffle; he knew he would be scarred for life. At least his father managed to help a little. He turned his attention over to ask about what he was going to be doing now, but his voice caught in his throat when his father's fingers brushed over his face gently, trailing down to his neck vertebrae, sending a shiver down his spine. Although the touch was gentle, it made him feel...weird. In a bad way.

"...Dad...?"

Gaster smiled, his eyelights glowing brighter. "It's a shame that Sans was the one to do this to you, Papyrus..." he murmured, his hands shifting down to hold Papyrus's rib cage, fingers pressing into the ribs through the shirt, making Papyrus squirm. "I didn't think he had it in him to do this, after all that talk about protecting you."

Papyrus felt his father's hands trail lower down to his pelvis, that harsh, buzzing alarm of 'this isn't right' ringing in his skull. He made a move to scoot back, but one of Gaster's hands firmly planted onto his chest, keeping him down.

"He kept my grand prize away from me for so long," Gaster continued, his free hand undoing Papyrus's shorts. "I wanted to be the one to see your spirit broken." He jerked Papyrus's shorts down and dropped them onto the floor. "I wanted to WATCH the change in your soul, WATCH your innocence be spoiled!"

Papyrus thrashed under Gaster's hold, starting to panic. What was happening? Why was his father acting this way!? He struggled harder, then gasped when he felt a heavy weight on his soul, dropping back hard on the examination table, seeing a soft blue glow through his shirt where his soul was, unable to move much anymore.

Gaster's eyelights glowed brighter, and dark red—almost black—ectoplasmic tendrils slithering from under his lab coat and curling around Papyrus's legs, pinning them apart. "Sans may have taken the pleasure of spoiling your innocence, but judging from your reaction here, he hasn't spoiled THIS for me." He gently stroked Papyrus's face. "And you'll be living with me now, so you'll have to learn to like it since Sans isn't here to take it for you anymore."

Papyrus's soul-bound body twitched on the table, his eyelights focused on the ceiling above him as he tried to scream but couldn't, his body going rigid when he felt sharp pain in his pelvis before a static-like numbness spread over his mind and body.

The ceiling spread out in his vision like a blank white void, the lines in the ceiling reminding him of the puzzle cube in his pocket. He imagined colors in the squares, shuffling them around until the colors matched up, and absently wondered why the rest of his life wasn't so easy to assemble into place.

_In this world, it's kill or be killed._

Sans promised to protect him, but instead he threw him against the wall and almost shattered his skull. He could have killed him.

_In this world, it's kill or be killed._

Gaster promised to help him, but he was just hurting him more, making that hot fire melt his soul like lava, filling his bones with hate and filth.

_In this world, it's kill or be killed._

Everyone was going to keep hurting him. Nobody was good in this world. They were just going to keep hurting him, keep using him, try to kill him.

_In this world, it's kill or be killed._

.

.

.

_…...he was just going to have to kill them FIRST._

Papyrus's soul flared violently, a fire sparking to life in his right eye socket as he wrenched himself free of the binding blue magic, calling his magic forth to form a bone in his hand and ram it into Gaster's chest. He didn't even give the older Skeleton time to react before jerking it out and jamming it back in.

**"I HATE YOU!"** he screamed, stabbing into Gaster's rib cage over and over again, shattering ribs with several hits. **"I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE** _ **DIE DIE DIE**_ **!"**

The larger body under him began to dissolve but he didn't stop stabbing, not until he was hitting the floor instead of bones. When it finally stuck that there was nothing but dust within the clothes, he dropped the splintered bone in his hand, letting it dissolve on the floor, and screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

The incessant screaming and odd fluctuations in magic drew a Guard and some scientists to the room, the Guard breaking down the door and staring at the sight of a half-naked Skeleton child standing over dust-covered lab clothing that anyone could identify as Dr. Gaster's, screaming his head off with twin trails of red-black tears streaming down his cheekbones.

One of the scientists, Gaster's former assistant before Sans was brought in, knew about the now-deceased Skeleton's incestuous activities with the older of the two brothers, and had only feared the worst when she saw Gaster walk in with Papyrus before locking himself in his lab. Now she knew her fears were justified, and could only feel pity for the screaming child and righteous satisfaction of the abusive molester's death.

She nudged her way past Alphys and slipped off her lab coat, gently putting it around Papyrus's shoulders, not even surprised when the boy jerked away and dove under the examination table, his eyelights blazing in the dark shadowed spot. She glowered down at the pile of dust-covered clothes before turning to the Guard. "Get someone in here to clean up the mess," she said. "And tell King Asgore that we need a new Head Royal Scientist."

"We've already got one," Alphys put in, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at this turn of luck for her. "No need to notify next-of-kin, considering he—"

"Alphys, until the paperwork clears, shut up," the scientist snapped. Although Alphys WAS next in line, her colleague was still a senior scientist and a more powerful Monster, so Alphys narrowed her eyes and said nothing. The scientist glowered at the others staring. "The rest of you, back off! He doesn't need an audience!"

The other scientists muttered and slunk off elsewhere, leaving the scientist alone with Papyrus, who had yet to stop glaring from under the table. She sighed, sitting back in a chair to keep watch until something could be figured out.

Under the table, Papyrus pressed as far back as he could against the wall, his hand shaking as he formed another bone construct into it. He wasn't going to trust this woman, no matter how nice she might have been in the past. He made that mistake before. Never again. Not. Ever. Again.

* * *

His body was shaking two hours later from the effort it took to stay conscious. Even though the scientist had fallen asleep, he wasn't going to do the same. He wasn't stupid. He had dissolved the bone construct to reserve his energy, and was instead playing with his puzzle cube, just to keep his mind focused on staying awake.

Through his puzzle play, he couldn't help but think what was going to happen to him now. He wouldn't go back to Sans; he REFUSED. And his father was dead now, so that was out. There were no orphanages in the Underground as far as he knew, and if there were, he was positive no one was kind enough to actually take care of children instead of torture or kill them. It left his options very limited for his ten-year-old self.

He clicked the cube into place, staring at the perfectly-matched colored sides for several moments before turning it in his hands and clicking the pieces randomly to start over again. Before he was even three clicks in, the door opened and the heavy footfalls he had come to know as a Guardsman's stepped into the room.

"That's Dr. Gaster, alright," the loud rumbling voice said as he stepped over near the table, barely two feet from Papyrus. "And who's the one that did it?"

"His own son, if you can believe it," Alphys's voice said from the door.

"Sans?"

"Guess again."

Several seconds of silence.

"Right. So where is the brat?"

"Hiding under that examination table."

Papyrus tucked himself back further, his bones rattling softly with a growl that rumbled from down in his chest. The commotion must have roused the other scientist because he heard her voice next.

"Guardsman, he's just a child!" she said, a hint of pleading in her voice. "And his actions weren't at all unjustified, considering what that BEAST did to him—"

"I'm not here to arrest the brat," the Guardsman snapped, pushing her away. "I've known Dr. Gaster for years, and he's not an easy Monster to take down. The old bastard could've probably become a Guardsman himself if he had the mind to. But if some little brat was able to do this, you can bet your ass the Captain would want THAT kind of potential trained up. I'm here to take him to the Capitol for training."

There were several more moments of stunned silence; Guard training was a deadly rigorous volunteer service with very little scouting done, but where there WAS scouting, it was rare and earned.

The silence was broken by the sound of shifting coming from under the table, the Guard and two scientists turning to see Papyrus crawl out from under his hiding place. Barely coming up to the Guard's abdomen and swallowed by the scientist's coat, he hardly looked the part of someone who had just slain a powerful Skeleton Monster, but the menacing crack in his skull paired with the blazing eyelights in his tired eye sockets made up for his petite stature.

"...you're taking me away from here?" Papyrus asked, though the dead tone made it sound more like a statement. "...I don't have to stay here?"

"No," the Guardsman replied. "You're going to the Capitol. If you're able to display even half of what was explained to me concerning Dr. Gaster's death, then you may live to graduate from training, and who knows? Maybe you'll be a Ranked Guardsman. Or maybe you'll die in the first week and spare everyone the tax expenses."

Papyrus's hand clenched around the puzzle cube before trailing his eyelights up to the Guard's, keeping firm eye contact the likes of which were almost never seen on a child, even the broken ones. "...I'm not going to die," Papyrus stated back.

The Guardsman gave a curt nod. "Then grab whatever you can carry, runt," he said impatiently. "We haven't got all day." He turned to leave, Alphys jumping out of his way.

Papyrus followed, pausing briefly to bend down and pick up the dusty red scarf his father always wore and draped it around his shoulders like a morbid trophy, sending the scientist a cold look of 'I'm grateful but don't expect a thank-you' before trailing after the Guardsman.

Alphys and the other scientist watched Papyrus leave before sharing a quick look, both having experienced the cold chill crawling over their backs at just how much that small child resembled his cruel, deadly father, and for a split second, could see a vision of what kind of Monster he could become.


	2. What Had Been Done to Me

It was a jarring experience, even for Papyrus's expectations, in seeing the Capitol for the first time. Unlike the Hotlands, this place was heavily populated nearly to the point of overcrowding, making Papyrus feel more than a little claustrophobic. Still, he kept his eyes forward and hand clenched around the puzzle cube in his pocket, following the Guardsman in charge of his reassignment dutifully.

The walk was not very far; he was only taking Papyrus as far as the large check-in station for Guards, since such a largely-populated area required a good handful of Guards to look over. At the check-in station, he led Papyrus back into the building, showing him to a Rabbit Monster.

"I've got one for training," he stated, stepping aside to show Papyrus's small form. The Rabbit Monster looked down—really, looked DOWN, the boy was so small—and frowned.

"...A Skeleton Monster?" he said dubiously. "...they're rare, aren't they? And I'm willing to bet he's one of Dr. Gaster's kin. I'd hate to know what HE would have to say about that."

"Nothing, considering the bastard's dead," the Guardsman retorted. "I scouted him, Pete, he killed the Doc. I THINK he's good to go."

The Rabbit Monster's eyes widened, glancing back down at Papyrus, seeing the small Skeleton glower back at him. "...scouted, you say?" he asked. "...alright then. I'm pretty sure Rex will appreciate having someone with some actual EXP rather than some brat who just wants perks." He rummaged around for paperwork. "...you even know how to read, kid?"

"I helped with Royal Scientist-level lab equations," Papyrus replied. "Don't insult me." He grabbed the paperwork and a pen off the desk, sitting down on the floor to fill it out.

"...kid might actually make it through orientation," Pete muttered. "But he'll need a real attitude adjustment to avoid getting his skull knocked off his shoulders."

"Easier to adjust when they're young," the Guard replied. "I'm getting back to the Hotlands. You make sure he gets to training." That said, he turned and headed off.

Pete sighed, putting in a call that he was escorting someone to training, then looked back over the desk and tensed when he saw Papyrus peering over the edge, holding up his paperwork.

"I'm done," Papyrus said, putting it down before walking over to a chair and sitting down, taking out his puzzle cube and fiddling with it. Pete sighed and looked down at the paperwork, skimming over a few key details.

Name, Papyrus...Age, 10...Species, Skeleton...Former Occupation, supervised charge of a Royal Scientist physicist... Pete inwardly snorted; the kid had guts, he'd give him that. He filled in a few notes of his own to the paperwork, stamped the last one, then put it onto the table.

"This one you give directly to the Captain yourself," he said, getting Papyrus's attention. Papyrus gave the barest hint of a curt nod before reaching out and grabbing it, tucking it into his pocket before playing with his puzzle cube again. Pete's ear twitched slightly, his jaw tight for a few moments before sighing. "Keep eye contact with him," he said lowly, seeing Papyrus's hands pause. "Breaking eye contact is a sign of submission. Don't submit."

He watched as Papyrus's phalanges flexed into the cube for a moment before continuing with their play in clicking the pieces into place. Pete shook his head, filing off the paperwork, and purposely putting the kid's in the front for the Captain to look through first.

* * *

The training area was a loud, fast-paced nightmare of senior Guards screaming orders and abuse at trainees, clashing fights in combat training, and the occasional brawl between two Monsters for some reason or the other.

Papyrus surveyed everything, immediately sorting out the Monsters into slots in his mind. It was easy just by looking which Monsters were in charge; they were better trained in combat, had their heads higher and backs straighter, and their actions were more fluid and controlled.

The ones that had been here for awhile didn't quite have the same rod-spine pride as the trainers, but they definitely had more skill and were being shouted at much less than the newcomers.

Immediately, Papyrus honed in on those like him; the brand-new batch of trainees. And immediately, he despised them. Cruel snarling smirks, haughty expressions, and gleams in their red eyes that surveyed smaller Monsters like meals to chew up and spit out...these were the worst types of Monsters that Papyrus had experience with.

These were the types of Monster his father was.

Out of the pickings was one Monster Papyrus honed in on, merely for the fact that they were almost as small as he was, and didn't look much older. He couldn't tell if they were a girl or a boy like him, not that it mattered. He'd never seen a Water Monster before, but he was sure from their fins that they were. Their red hair-like caudal filaments were hacked short and a grimy cloth bandage covered their left eye, and Papyrus took an educated guess that it was missing.

Despite being small and almost frail-looking, they had a razor-sharp spark in their remaining eye and a stony expression on their face; if Papyrus didn't intimately know what his own face looked like, he would swear that it was like looking into a mirror.

Introductions and orientation was less to be desired; they were screamed at, degraded, and then told to run. Just RUN.

So run they did.

Papyrus had managed to catch a nap waiting for transport to take him to this place, but it was still an agonizing experience, considering the fact that he was still recovering from an infection and hadn't properly rested after...everything else. But he ran. He ran with harder conviction than he had when he swore off acknowledging Sans. He ran with harder conviction than it took to kill his own father. He kept his legs moving, dodging the attempts another trainee made at tripping him up, and getting back up from the times he couldn't dodge.

By the time the whistle was blown and he felt close to letting his soul extinguish and die, there were nine out of twenty-six trainees left standing, including himself and the Water Monster, who looked like she would stick her head in a toilet if she had to in order to recuperate from the ordeal.

"Only nine," a loud, graveling voice spoke, and everyone turned in tandem to see a huge Reptile Monster stalking up, wearing the style of armor reserved only for the Captain of the Royal Guard. The trainers all stood at attention, and Papyrus had the mind to do the same, fighting—yet failing—to make his legs stop shaking. The Captain strolled around the running area, surveying who was standing and who had collapsed; another Monster who HAD been standing fell to her knees whilst he was doing so.

There was only a sharp 'whoosh' and a wet slicing sound before the Monster's head was separated from her body, the Captain holding a large battle axe in his hand.

"Weakness will NOT be tolerated here!" he said loud enough for everyone to hear. "If you cannot stand after THIS, you cannot stand in true battle! You cannot stand on the field! AND YOU WILL NOT STAND IN MY PRESENCE." He turned to the remaining Monsters, and seemed to pay attention to the two smallest ones with genuine intrigue that the children were still standing when others were not.

"Those who are standing, find a Monster who fell and kill them."

There were murmurs of shock from the remaining Monsters, who seemed to be in some state of shock that they had to do so, or that this is what would have happened had they NOT driven themselves to still go. The pause of surprise was broken when the young Water Monster let out a piercing shriek and bolted out of the standing crowd and up to a fallen Monster, forming a small spear made of magic into their hand and stabbing the Monster right through the soul, dusting him immediately.

Not wanting to be outdone by a mere kid, the others ran to the fallen, some of which were still conscious and tried to get away to no avail.

Papyrus could feel his soul flickering in his rib cage, begging for rest and recuperation, but his mind swiftly silenced the plea. He could sense the Captain's critical eyes in the back of his skull, and knew what this lesson was truly about.

_'In this world, it's kill or be killed.'_

Forcing his magic forth despite the protest of his own stretched limits, he focused all of his power on the last unslain Monster on the ground and summoned a bone to just out from the ground and right through his head just as the Water Monster was running up to take him as their third kill. The Monster dusted before they could stab him through, and they looked up at Papyrus, glowering.

Papyrus didn't deign to return the glower, instead swaying where he stood as he fought like mad to retain consciousness, keeping his guard up. If he had to, he'd protect himself from their attack too.

_'In this world, it's kill or be killed.'_

* * *

Training proved to be just as trying as the orientation.

It wasn't just endless physical training and being shouted at; it was also classroom work on combat strategy, government law, peacekeeping, and history that mostly referred to the big war between humans and Monsters.

But there WAS physical training.

And it WAS hell.

Every day, Papyrus was pushed to his limits until he was ready to collapse, and on some days he did. But since he passed orientation day, collapses were forgiven if you could get back into training the next day. And go back he did. Even on days when he had cracked bones and every bit of spare magic went to healing them like his healing training was taught; it was trying, considering that a Skeleton's entire being WAS bones and therefore required a different form of magic to heal, but he made due quickly, thanks to his lessons in magic training.

Magic training was worse than physical training. Some Monsters were unable to form solid weapons with their magic, but they could still utilize them in different ways, and utilization was put to the grinder three times a week. It quickly became obvious that Papyrus was able to do more with his magic than simply create bones; he became aware that he had an unusually precise level of control over his magic, down to minute attacks and details. He could stop his magic mid-attack, resume on a dime, and dissolve everything on command.

He wasn't entirely unique in this concept; over his time here, he had gained a rival in the Water Monster from his first day. They were strong, almost fathomless in energy and magic, and the spear they had created became as much of a staple of their magic as Papyrus's bones.

Papyrus found that even though he had absolutely no desire to form any kind of bond in this kill-or-be-killed world, having a rival drove him further than he would have done on his own. Apparently it was a mutual sentiment, because the director in training bunked them together.

Roommates seemed like a bad idea, but it was a training in self-control and cooperation. Fighting between roommates was forbidden, and if was decreed that if you killed your roommate for ANY reason other than self-defense, you'd die with them. It was a silent truce he and the Water Monster had; in eight months, they hadn't even so much as given out their names to each other. But as long as they kept to themselves in their bunk house, they could beat the shit out of each other in training later.

Papyrus didn't mind this arrangement in the last; his roommate was just another puzzle, albeit with a few missing pieces. The Water Monster was as secretive as he was, as silent as he was, but it was still an all-too-familiar aura about them. They drove to be strong, they kept an almost physical barrier of space between themself and others, and the air of suspicion never waned even around him.

A scar over their eye. A closed-off personality to everyone. A dislike of physical contact. He could only guess they had been through something like he had, and that alone made him at very least respect that boundary. He was not there to antagonize; he was there for HIMSELF. He'd graduate from training, graduate from apprenticeship job-shadowing, and be a true Royal Guardsman, all for him, and nobody else.

* * *

It was almost a year into his training here, when a scratch in his mental routine gave him pause and let him know that something was wrong.

Every evening after dinner was dismissal for an hour of 'personal upkeep' before lights out and/or night rounds; if you were falling behind in government law class, needed extra physical or magic training, or simply wished to devote your time to meditation or, on the rare occasion, writing home to family, then that was the time to do it.

And every evening, Papyrus used personal upkeep to practice honing his magic control to perfection for forty-five minutes and use the remaining fifteen before lights out to play with his puzzle cube as a way of winding down for the evening. On this rare night, neither him or his roommate had night rounds, and they always came in thirty minutes before lights out to do one-fingered body planks for that entire time before bed.

It was twenty minutes before lights out, and they were not here.

They were not hurt, and Papyrus saw them in the dining hall; that revelation kept Papyrus from concentrating on his bones, the wheels clanking in his mind as he internally pondered over where they were.

Another aspect of his magic that was somewhat useless in the short-run, was that if he knew the aura of a Monster's soul well, he was able to feel out for that very soul to a respectable degree of distance. It was a useless talent here, considering there was no need to track anyone down, and he only spent long lengths of time with his roommate, but in THIS instance, that aspect of his magic was giving him an instinctive push to use it.

He trekked out of his room and back to the dining hall, going through second-hand steps that he had witnessed in his past year. His roommate always went to the well shed for water after dinner, and that was west of the dorm rooms. He followed that path, and felt a faint thrum of familiar magic in the air, signaling that he got them on his track.

As he walked toward the well shed, there was an odd thrum to this magic; something desperate, panicked, and almost...fearful. Three things he could never have thought to associate the Water Monster with. The thrumming made an echo in his own soul, something familiar...

...very uncomfortably, scarily familiar.

He broke into a run, his soul pounding in his rib cage as he made it to the well house and yanked the door open—

The pale blue form of his roommate was sprawled out on the floor of the well house, arms pinned down by two older Monsters, a third holding a stuffed cloth into their mouth while a fourth had their legs pinned to their chest, his body rocking hard against their smaller form—

Papyrus saw nothing but red.

He heard nothing but beastlike screaming in his skull.

He felt nothing but HATE.

An explosion of raging magic burst from his soul as he summoned bones from every possible angle and pierced all four larger Monsters through. That attack did nothing for him as he constructed a bone into his hand and began beating and stabbing what wasn't dust, screaming his head off as the air began to choke up with dust.

The screaming brought forth the Captain and two trainers, who ran to the well house and only gave pause when the fiery glare of Skeleton eyelights pinned on them, bone constructs reforming mid-air above and around him, poised to attack. The small Skeleton's stance was wide and bracing, his hand clenching around a splintered bone construct with enough force to almost snap it, rib cage heaving with snarling breath.

Behind him was his roommate, naked and bleeding from torn gills, her remaining eye's pupil slit to almost hair-thin, hands clenching around a newly-formed spear that was nowhere near as strong as it should be, magically.

Considering her state of undress, the Skeleton's offensive/defensive stance, and the ruined, dusty clothing of four larger Monsters, it took only moments for the Captain to guess what had transpired. His jaw tightened, not stupid enough to think he would get a foot further into that well house without losing SOMETHING to those bones, and kept eye contact with Papyrus as he stepped out of the well house and closed the door behind him in a silent dismissal of the event.

Papyrus's hand trembled violently as he dropped the construct, the others vanishing in the air behind him. The initial trigger to his own trauma was fading, and he was remembering that this WASN'T then. Those WEREN'T his father. HE wasn't the victim. He quietly turned around, his roommate baring sharp teeth at him, and he no longer wondered about their gender, since it was on display so horrifically.

Seeing that her clothing had been torn completely, he almost mechanically took off his jacket and silently held it out to her. There was no inner thought of not caring about her. There was only a mutual understanding. This was a covering of shame; a way to blanket the fact that it had happened, and a silent conveying of the fact that what happened in here would stay in here. There was nothing more he could do for her at this point.

She eyed the coat for several long moments before snatching it and putting it on, buttoning it up all the way, the article of clothing barely covering what it needed to, but still getting some of the job done as she took a few moments to mentally steady herself before walking out of the well house with him.

There was no thank-you.

Papyrus didn't want one.

All they both wanted was to go to bed.

And so they did.


	3. As They Do To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be two different chapters, but I cut some nonsense out and made it one; I don't want it too much longer than Full Circle, tbh.

She told him her name was Undyne.

There had been no prompting or requesting, but Papyrus got no sleep that night as Undyne quietly talked from her side of the room for hours. He learned that it had been her and her mother and her cousin for a long time in Waterfall. Her cousin made a profit of using their shared species rarity to sell her and her mother out to the worst kind of Monsters that wanted to sully something rare and innocent.

For the most part, her mother took the brunt of everything and Undyne was forced to watch. Still, her soul remained untarnished, as her mother somehow managed to comfort her after every ordeal.

And then a particularly nasty Monster had tied her mother up and forced her to watch as he mercilessly raped Undyne, thumbing her eye out to make her scream louder as he did so. Undyne's mother somehow tore out of her bindings and attempted to bite the Monster to death with her sharp teeth, only to be dusted from a broken neck. And THAT was when Undyne's soul broke.

Undyne killed the Monster, killed her cousin, and attempted to kill a Guard who had been called to the scene. She had been scouted into the Guard and that was that.

She finished her sordid tale with a warning that if he spoke of it, she'd kill him and to hell with the consequences of her own life before she turned over and went to sleep.

Papyrus said nothing, but was unable to sleep for the rest of the night. The similarities of their personal histories were too strong for him to just ignore, and he felt a strong pulse of empathy in his soul that even his most hateful thoughts could not quell down, and he knew it would be damn near impossible to make it go away.

He had a rivalry with Undyne, but it did nothing to change the fact that he had SAVED her. He had DEFENDED her. He had AVENGED her by killing her assailants, and the fact that she spoke to him for the first time in nearly a year to tell her story told him that she felt the same empathy he did.

It was a candid acknowledgment, and nothing that needed hugs or words of sympathy for. It was simply something that was there, and Papyrus felt that he could live with it. There were no empty promises to break, no real trust to betray, and so they couldn't get hurt by the other with the information.

But the empathy WAS something that could be a tool for the other's downfall, and had to be carefully monitored, lest he let his guard down even the slightest bit. He wouldn't end up hurt like he had with—

_"I didn't think he had it in him to do this, after all that talk about protecting you."_

_"And you'll be living with me now, so you'll have to learn to like it since Sans isn't here to take it for you anymore."_

…..empathy.

Empathy absolutely SUCKED.

* * *

The years in training passed, and the silent truce and rivalry he and Undyne had never wavered, and never changed, even if they had.

Being the two youngest trainees, their growth and development was a jarring sight to witness to the others. Undyne didn't bother hiding her gender anymore, nor did she flaunt it. Although what had transpired in the well house never left those who witnessed it, anyone coming anywhere near Undyne with less-than-pure intentions outside of combat training would suddenly feel their sins crawling on their backs, and the sight of a Skeleton Monster with a right eye socket filled with hellfire magic would send them on their way.

After a few years, Undyne's skeletal shadow wasn't even needed; the Water Monster grew up, bulked up, and became strong enough to the point where hand-to-hand combat with her was a guaranteed loss of a limb, if not a death sentence. The double-edged sword to that strength was a distaste of wanting to touch anyone, and so everyone made sure to not piss her off to the point to where she HAD to. Her combat methods were brutal and violent with no finesse to speak of, but her one-hit kills were more than enough to make up for it, making her a trainer favorite in their class.

More jarring than her growth was Papyrus's. For the first couple of years Undyne had him beat in growth, but once he turned thirteen, he began outgrowing his clothing within months and by his fourteenth year he was a full head taller than Undyne and almost as tall as the adults. His petite bone structure thickened and filled out with the physical training and soldier's diet he was put on, and cracks in his bones became much fewer and far-between.

Provided, of course, someone was able to land a hit on him. Despite his size, he was easily the fastest trainee, sometimes able to move in bursts of speed that were so sudden it was almost like he could short-range teleport. His fighting style was best described as 'elegant', with precise strikes made with the least amount of energy, which served well into reserving magic and strength for long battles.

As far as his magic attacks went, he had everyone beat no contest at control over his own magic, as well as creativity in how many ways he could kill a Monster with bones. For subduing only, he showed a unique mastery in blue magic, something no other Monster had, not even Undyne, who was the resident master of green magic. He honed it to the point where with proper concentration, he could control a Monster's movements by a blue hold on the soul.

He didn't focus much on that aspect; who had time to concentrate on one particular thing when he could more than easily subdue them and then put a bone through their head? That particular talent was put to the backburner for later.

Six months into his fourteenth year, he was out in the sparring field with his class waiting for pair-offs when the head trainer walked out and called for attention.

"This week begins the first step of your future!" he barked, pacing in front of the line of trainees. "Starting today, you will be graded weekly based on skill, demeanor, and work ethic to be given your ranks!"

Papyrus and the other trainees started at this revelation; rank gradings shouldn't be happening for at least another six or so months, so why now? The trainer had the answer.

"Captain Rex will be selecting a protege from this class to train himself in preparation for his future retirement. The trainee who, at the end of their training and shadowing period, attains Rank One, will be his apprentice." He gave the trainees a bloodthirsty smirk. "This only happens once every few decades or so, so congratulations on making it to this momentous occasion. Let the bloodbath begin."

* * *

By the end of the day, they had already lost a Monster in their class, but he was not mourned. One less Monster meant one less in the competition pool, but nothing was easier for those who remained.

Nobody slept well the next few nights, Undyne and Papyrus included; Papyrus, for the most part, because Undyne kept a small light flickering as she did something in a small mirror that irritated Papyrus enough to call her out on it.

"Just WHAT is so important that you have to risk us getting our asses kicked for being up past lights out?!" he demanded. Undyne scoffed, lowering the mirror, showing that she was holding a small file in her hand.

"We're not just being judged on skill alone, punk," she replied, baring her teeth at him, and Papyrus saw that they were sharper than he remembered them being that morning. "If you can't intimidate on sight, you can't command respect." She gave him a once-over. "Personally, unless you plan on getting any taller or thicker, you honestly look like a stiff wind can knock your bony ass over, and nobody's gonna be intimidated by THAT." She raised the mirror and began filing at her teeth again.

Papyrus scowled, shoving his head under his pillow to block out the light, but sleep did not come any easier. He stared at dark nothingness long after Undyne finished her work and put her light out to go to sleep.

* * *

The next day was a partial-free day, meaning the trainees were not REQUIRED to do anything until their personal evaluation tests. Regardless of the fact, most used that time to scope out the trainees that were called up for demonstrations of skill and knowledge (and intimidation factor, not that it was either a secret or explicitly spoken).

Trainees were called up at random in pairs to square off against one another. They were graded on the fight and depending on their grade would declare them either ready for shadowing, held back for more training, or given the option to quit entirely and be allowed to go home—or anywhere—without repercussion. The last option was most favorable to those with lower grades; once you joined Guard training, you either graduated, died trying, or stuck it out for the exit visa.

Undyne was one of the first trainees to be called up and squared off against a Dog Monster. The two were equal in savagery of their respective fighting styles, the Dog Monster had more speed to dodge Undyne's physical attacks, but it was Undyne's superior talent in magic that won her the fight. Extra points were added, the trainees who paid audience knew, when she bared her teeth and let out a mockery doglike howl to solidify her victory.

Insult to injury—a Guard fan favorite.

The day wore on and trainees came and went from surveying and enjoying their rare day off, but one remained, never moving from his spot for any battle. Papyrus kept his profile low, which was exceedingly difficult given his height; his ever-present dusty red scarf wrapped around his neck, tucking his chin down into the cloth as he made himself scarce, his hands nonstop busy with his puzzle cube that, despite the years of being handled, functioned as perfectly as always.

Scramble, click into place, rinse and repeat.

It did not go unnoticed, but the other trainees wisely chose to not acknowledge it. The LAST time someone had attempted to take either the scarf or the puzzle from Papyrus, it had not ended well. Papyrus would leave both items in his dorm if told to by a trainer, but at one point he was playing with his puzzle and a trainee had snatched it out of his hands and loudly laughed at what an infant Papyrus was, playing with toys. It was that day that Papyrus proved that being entirely bones mattered nothing when a pissed-off Skeleton was repeatedly punching you in the face. At the end of the ordeal, only Undyne could wrestle him away from the Monster before the trainers could get involved, and nobody touched the puzzle again.

"Papyrus versus Kerin! Front and center!"

Papyrus's hands paused on his puzzle for a beat before he put it into his pocket, walking out to the sparring center, facing off against a larger Monster, and coincidentally the very Monster who tried to take his puzzle from him two years ago.

Of the same species as the Captain and filling out to be just as brutal, Kerin was more of a force to be reckoned with now that he was older and stronger—and wiser, if getting four teeth broken by a Skeleton punch was anything to testify with—and he had a bone to pick with Papyrus now that they were allowed to actually spar together, no bars held.

Kerin's slitted pupils constricted even further as Papyrus faced him in the ring, baring his teeth at the Skeleton. "When I'm finished beating you into the ground," he hissed, flexing his claws, "I'm going to crush that stupid puzzle and make you eat the pieces, you little freak."

Papyrus said nothing, but his right eye socket began glowing with a brighter intensity than his left eyelight, bones materializing in a patterned formation behind him. He wasn't outdoing Kerin in battle so easily; boisterous as the Reptile Monster was, he was still proficient in his own brand of magic—altering his Attack and Defense to either land a devastating killing blow, or harden his skin to near-impenetrable levels. However, either skill required a wide opening to use, and Papyrus was more than proficient in subtlety.

Kerin bolted forward, swinging his weapon of choice—a warhammer—in Papyrus's direction. Papyrus dodged, using his bones to knock the hammer off-kilter and sweep Kerin's leg out from under him. Kerin swung the hammer back and used it as leverage to kick Papyrus away, swinging the hammer in an arc to shatter Papyrus's bones.

Papyrus righted himself, his right eyelight blazing as he summoned bones to jut up from the ground and formed several more in the air to strike at Kerin at the same time. Kerin swung his hammer to shatter some, dodged others, and simply took the hit of what remained to rush Papyrus, his eyes glowing a more intense red, signaling his descent into bloodlust.

Sparing his own energy, Papyrus took instead to dodging Kerin's increasingly fast-placed blows, looking for an opening to strike; with Monsters in bloodlust, it was difficult to do. Their reason went AWOL, but their natural magic awareness rose and so did their unpredictability. Using a physical attack was most effective in bloodlust-striken Monsters.

He found an opening and struck, using a summoned bone in his hand to stab into Kerin's arm. Kerin roared, dropping his hammer and using his free arm to punch Papyrus in the side of the head. Papyrus's eyelight blazed brighter, twisting the bone in Kerin's arm and lurching upward, burying his teeth into Kerin's neck and tearing out a chunk of flesh.

Kerin dropped like a stone, HP draining rapidly as he thrashed around, blood spurting everywhere. The trainers made the call for the match to end seeing how low Kerin's HP was getting, and declared Papyrus the winner, calling for the healing instructor to stop Kerin's blood flow.

Before the healer could hurry over, a red glow appeared over Kerin's body, his soul pulsing in his chest as his body levitated off the ground. Papyrus's right eyelight made a fire-like blaze in his eye socket, his hand raising in tandem with Kerin's body. For a long moment, nothing happened, and then the whole arena heard the echoing sound of dozens of bones snapping as all of Kerin's limbs twisted a complete 360 and his spine was snapped in half, his body dusting before it hit the ground.

There was silence in the arena before Papyrus turned to go back to the sidelines, and the reviewing trainers and trainees alike were greeted to the sight of Papyrus's bloodstained mouth, his teeth filed to razor-sharp points, illuminated by the hellfire glow in his scarred right eye socket.

* * *

Papyrus stuffed the last of his few belongings into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder and heading to the gate, being joined by only five others from the class, Undyne included. Out of their class, only six were deemed prepared enough to begin their shadowing, and after the--literally--killer display in the sparring ring, nobody was surprised that Papyrus was one of them.

Undyne commented that even she wasn't sure if it was Papyrus's soul-manipulation killing blow or the sight of his sharp bloodstained teeth that got him his passing grade, but either way if it was the latter, he owed her partial credit for the idea.

"AND you owe me a new file," she groused, leaning against the wall of the gate. "Your stupid bony teeth wore it down."

"Consider it payback for keeping me up all night filing your teeth," he replied, taking out his puzzle cube. "You know I need complete darkness to sleep."

Undyne rolled her eye. "You're such a wimp, bonehead, how will you EVER get into the Royal Guard if you can't sleep without total darkness? You need to be able to adapt to ANYTHING."

"And so I shall," Papyrus said, clicking the puzzle into perfection before scrambling the blocks again. "By adapting to no sleep until there is total darkness."

"You're such a smartass," Undyne muttered. "I only pity whoever decides to pick YOU for shadowing."

"And I pity the one who picks YOU, if they're fans of sleep," Papyrus replied, clicking the pieces quietly, glancing up when the gate opened and several Guards walked in and looked over the newly-graduated trainees.

"Holy shit," Undyne muttered, her eye narrowing at the group, honing in on a large Lion Monster. "That's Leon, the Royal Executioner. See what happens when you steal my file?"

"Let it go, Undyne."

The newly-graduated trainees felt into silence as the head trainer stepped up and began reading off where the trainees would be shadowing.

"Undyne, you will be shadowing Lieutenant Sabra in the Waterfall District," he intoned, waiting for Undyne to grab her bag and walk up to a lizard-like Reptile Monster with smooth, snakelike skin and a no-nonsense air about her. "...Papyrus, you will be shadowing Executioner Leon in the Capitol."

A hush fell over the group as Papyrus put his cube away and walked up to the imposing Lion Monster, giving the executioner a stiff salute before standing to the side and waiting for the other four trainees to be sorted out.

There was no fancy speech for the graduated, only a dismissal as the gate was closed. Undyne and Papyrus simply gave each other a curt nod before following their respective superiors off in different directions.

Leon said nothing as he walked with Papyrus back toward the Capitol and into a darker area that was less populated and almost debilitated, coming out into a cobblestone clearing that held a large platform in the middle that was stained with blood and dust residue.

"This is where you will be working for the next few years," Leon spoke at last, his voice deceptively soft for his size and grizzled appearance. "There is no shortage of lawbreakers in the Capitol, nor is there a shortage of stupidity. Every first of the month, we have a public execution to remind everyone that their lives are fleeting...that nobody is above the law. Sometimes even a Guardsman become one of the executed."

He slipped a piece of paper out of a pocket, unfolding it and reading it aloud. "'Papyrus shows proficiency in commanding respect and maintaining a sense of social justice while not hesitating to weed out the criminal activity and deliver a killing blow'." He glanced down at Papyrus. "Be honest. When you delivered punishment, did it fit the crime?"

Papyrus didn't even hesitate. "Yes," he replied. "It did."

Leon gave a curt nod. "Very well then. We begin tomorrow, and see if you really are Guardsman material."

* * *

Time passes so quickly when one is occupied entirely by work, even more so when one is so good at their job they're commissioned by another department to do some work on the side.

Either way, Papyrus got paid.

He had been asked to reorganize the census records of the Underground as they came in; the Head of Census hired him for his attention to detail and talent for putting chaos into perfect order almost effortlessly.

Still, the organization took longer than it should have, since—like always—the census for Snowdin was late.

It was difficult enough to get into Snowdin, even more difficult to get those lowlifes to cooperate with anything government-oriented, let alone a simple census record that should have taken only hours instead of days to complete. Papyrus was already in a bad mood when it was late—he had already missed the Sunday executions—and the delivery Monster who finally dropped the census files off almost got a bone through the skull; lucky for the Monster, she was fast and used to getting things thrown at her from irate workers.

Despite his irritation that this was taking so long, Papyrus refused to rush his work, filing away the census with the same care he did the other districts. It was that attention and dedication that gave him pause when he picked up the next sheet in the pile and the name of the Snowdin citizen stood out like one of Mettaton's gaudy neon signs.

**SANS**

Papyrus stared at the name, unaware that his hand was shaking until he heard the paper rattling, and forced himself to lay it on the desk, taking a heavy intake of air to settle his soul before looking back down on it.

_**NAME**_   **SANS**

_**SPECIES  **_ **SKELETON**

_**AGE**_ **24**

_**OCCUPATION**_ **SENTRY**

_**STATUS**_ **ALIVE**

Papyrus enclosed one hand around the other, resting his chin on them, staring at the paper intently. If the name alone was a coincidence, the species filing was not. As far as Skeletons went, he and Sans were all that were left after he killed Gaster, and he had put his brother into the back of his mind for the longest time.

And now, here he was in bold print—living in Snowdin as a sentry. How far he had fallen, from being a Royal Scientist to one of the most common of careers in the worst part of the Underground. Papyrus might have laughed if he had found this funny.

But he felt no humor. He didn't know what he felt. It wasn't the burning hatred he felt the last time he saw him, nor was it complete apathy.

Strange.

After staring at the paper, Papyrus filed it away and finished the work, writing down the census report, locking the file cabinet, and walking out, remaining contemplatively silent all the way back to his apartment.

* * *

"You're serious about this."

Papyrus's expression was one of complete seriousness as he stirred his lemon slice in his cup of tea, keeping eye contact with Captain Rex from across the table. He was at his final reviewing in an audience with the Captain himself, enjoying the civil atmosphere that was so hard to come by in the Guard.

"I am, Captain Rex," he replied, pausing to sip his tea. It wasn't often that someone was able to genuinely surprise the Captain, but he was pleased to find that he apparently could. "I believe I can make a bigger contribution to the Guard with this decision...make things run that much more smoothly for those in our extended chapters." He took another sip. "Not to mention it would do my mind wonders to have order where there is chaos. After waiting four extra days to finish the census project...well...I cannot stand to leave a mess where I know there is one."

Rex drummed his clawtips on his desktop, his expression contemplative. "You were my first choice for Rank One, you know this, yes?"

"I had an inkling."

"And you're certain of this."

"I am."

Rex sighed, sitting back in his chair and picking up his own teacup. "Very well then," he said, draining the cup and picking up a pen, putting down a marker into Papyrus's file before stamping it with a golden seal that was kept under lock and key for this business only.

"Welcome to the Royal Guard, Rank Two Guardsman Papyrus."


	4. As You Want Done To Yourself

Snowdin was worse than he had been expecting.

The laziness of the sentries, the disarray of the posts and buildings, the scent of dust and blood in the air...oh, he had a LOT of work to do.

Papyrus was standing with the rest of the Guard while everyone waited for the sentries to assemble, which took much longer than what it should have. He kept a timer; it took twenty-four minutes for all of the sentries to assemble.

Unbelievable.

During his waiting he silently scanned the area for Sans, and it was only when he saw bare tibia and fibula under long shorts that he finally honed in on one of the smallest of the Monsters assembled that was bundled up in a large, ratty coat.

…...so that was Sans. How...underwhelming. He hadn't grown an inch, it seemed. Papyrus didn't expect Sans to be so small after ten years...so fragile-looking.

He broke out of his musings when the Captain called him forth and went through the short formality of announcing his position before being left to his own devices. Glancing over quickly, he saw that Sans apparently attempted to make himself more discrete and inwardly scoffed at the childish behavior. If Sans wanted to be ignored, then fine. Other things commanded his attention.

Like that pack of Monsters who attempted to usurp his authority. A quick bone impaling and dispatching of their leader, and he thought he made himself pretty damn clear who was in charge here. Dog Monsters especially were simple enough to command respect from; whoever was the alpha was the boss, and he would be having the Dogs in line singing a cadence by the end of the week.

He dismissed the sentries and turned to make his way to his housing unit, pausing when he heard a voice say his name.

"PAPYRUS!"

He stood still for a beat, his fingers twitching before he forced them to still, and turned around. Sans stood before him, hood down and red eyelights glowing up at him. Gods, there had to be at least two and a half feet of height difference between them, he was so small, so...

….weak.

He could see Sans's hands shaking from nerves, and didn't even have to wonder why; this was the first time they were face-to-face in ten years, and the last time they actually SPOKE was when Sans had thrown him into a wall and scarred his skull, and Papyrus's last words to him were 'I hate you'.

"...Pap...bro..." Sans murmured, a spark of hope in his eyelights. That spark heated something in Papyrus—anger. Sans DARED to hope for something good after everything?! His own eyelights flickered with barely-concealed rage as he threw his arm out and backhanded Sans into the snow.

He stared down at the pitiful little lump of weakness, sneering at the moisture that collected in Sans's eye sockets as the smaller Skeleton raised a shaking hand to press to his bruised cheekbone. "I believe I already told you how you should address me, Sentry Sans," he said, his voice like cold steel, as hard as his resolve to not let his emotions spoil anything for whomever might be watching. "You would do well to remember it."

Sans lowered his gaze down to the snow, hands clenching slightly. "...yes...Boss..." he murmured, a definite brimming of tears coming to the rims of his eye sockets. Papyrus stared down at him, feeling a sense of...satisfaction in his soul, hearing Sans call him that.

"That's right," he said, his eyelights gleaming. "That's what I am. That's ALL I am, do you understand me?" He reached into his pocket, enclosing his hand around his puzzle cube and took it out before dropping it in front of Sans; and for the first time, he didn't feel naked without it. He didn't need it anymore...not when he had the cause of his compulsive puzzling under his boot to command.

"That's all I'll ever be to you."

He turned on heel and walked to his lodgings, his soul practically glowing in his rib cage at how...oh, what was this? Was this GIDDINESS? Having the source of his rage as HIS to command, to keep in HIS order of things? It was a good feeling, he thought to himself as he unlocked the door to his new home.

A very good feeling.

* * *

The house was a complete wreck, not that he expected anything less. Guards posted here scarcely lasted two weeks at a time, and squatters often broke in to stay for a spell. Papyrus took one look around and immediately got to work with cleaning, knowing that he would not be sleeping a wink until it was in proper order.

He opened the door to the basement, frowning when he heard an odd, hoarse growling sound from down the short staircase, raising his hand and creating a wisp of magic to see inside. Half-laying at the foot of the stairs was a large emaciated beast that Papyrus almost mistook as a Monster, until he realized he was unable to see its soul right away.

A dog beast down here was unprecedented, but not unheard of. Beasts from the Surface sometimes fell down and those that survived roamed around the Underground; more often than naught, they were captured and sometimes eaten. Some Monster must have found this beast and kept it down for a lean winter meal.

Papyrus walked down the stairs, making the light a little brighter to look the beast over; it was heavily emaciated and looked like it had been beaten some time ago. Its growls were weak, but the gleam in its eyes was hard and determined to live. To survive another day despite being left down in a basement to possibly starve to death.

"Today is your lucky day then, beast," Papyrus said, emitting a dominant aura from his soul. "If you have any modicum of intellect, you will know that I am your only buffer between life and death. Do you want to live?" The beast made no noise, its ears flattening and head lowering submissively. "Good dog." Papyrus dispelled the wisp of light and picked the beast up, noting how lightweight it was despite its size, and carried it upstairs.

"I've heard stories of loyal dog beasts assisting humans in battle," he said almost conversationally as he set the beast down on the floor. "They know who their enemy is, but more importantly, they know who their master is. Obey me, recover, and I will let you devour the Monster who locked you down there as a reward."

The dog's ears perked slightly, and Papyrus smirked before fetching some water for the beast. An attack beast for himself...yes, this was turning out to be quite a strategic career move indeed.

* * *

If Papyrus didn't have his dog beast to distract him from the complete disorder that was Snowdin, he was sure he would be killing citizens left and right.

Most infuriatingly of all, was Sans.

It didn't take long for Papyrus to find out that Sans was the town drunk and a general laughing stock because of his emotional outbursts. Apparently, some of the Snowdin citizens thought that Papyrus might be the same way because more than a few attempted to undermine, question, or usurp his authority; one drunk sentry even came out of nowhere with a punch to the face while spouting off about 'another prissy pissbaby Skeleton' to deal with.

Being that Papyrus was already in a foul mood, he went straight from 'heavy mangling with a warning' to 'public execution', and made attendance MANDITORY. If he was going to cement his authority in this place, he was going to do it right.

During his shadowing years with Leon, the Executioner had taught him a great many things, including the creed 'there's nothing that says an execution must be quick and painless'. In fact, Leon preferred a method that would make it sink in that breaking authority links in the chain of command when he was performing his executions. He put Papyrus's precise control of magic to good use, teaching him how to tear a Monster down piece by piece, HP by HP; how to keep them in a constant limbo of alive and dusting until the very end.

Leon was the pragmatic sort that did not 'enjoy' his work, per se, but rather saw it as a necessary lawful evil that must be committed to maintain order. Papyrus found himself in that exact lane, only, unlike Leon, he DID enjoy it to a degree. It was the same thrill he got when using his lesser-utilized ability to control a Monster through their soul; being in complete command of life and limb. Execution day every first of the month became something to look forward to, especially on the day when Leon gave him complete carte blanch to do whatever he wanted.

Papyrus recalled that day vividly, as he set with his first Snowdin public execution; dispatching that whimpering mutt on his first day here truly didn't count. THIS counted. Working with an audience as he began with the fingers and worked his way in, tearing off claws, peeling back skin, snapping bones, letting the condemned scream until he couldn't scream anymore.

It went on for three hours, and then he finally allowed the Monster to die.

From the looks the townspeople had on their faces, he was sure he had gotten his point across, and made a mental note to build an execution platform in the near future; a visual reminder always worked better than a mental one.

The laws he set out were quite simple; no public fighting, and no unauthorized killing. Authorized fights were to come to him for approval, and approve he did. Quarrels were settled and order was maintained.

But of course...Sans had to be in the middle of discourse.

Papyrus was walking back to his home with some food to give to his dog beast when a loud crashing of a window made him look up in time to see Sans diving toward the ground. By reflex, he threw out his hand and stopped the descent with a hold on Sans's soul, rushing over to survey the situation.

Sans was out cold with several tears to his jacket, and Papyrus could smell alcohol on his breath. He growled, ready to dust the bastard from annoyance alone, when he looked up and saw a set of eyes peeking down from the broken window.

Papyrus's eyelights blazed, throwing up his hand and creating a bar of bones over the window before bolting into the building and up the stairs, catching one Monster on his way down en route and pinning him to the stairwell wall with a bone through the shoulder, then burst into the tiny one-room apartment and saw two more Monsters trying to wrench the bones off of the one window of the place.

It took no effort to subdue them and drag all three out, seeing two off-duty sentries hurry over to check the matter. Papyrus glanced over at Sans, who was still passed out on the snow.

"Get him to the jailhouse," he commanded. "And I have already surveyed his condition; I had BEST see the same condition when I stop by later." The sentries gave him shaky nods and hurried off with Sans as Papyrus glowered at the three would-be assassins. "I believe I made myself PERFECTLY. CLEAR. When I said that unauthorized killing was now illegal," he hissed, his eyelights glowing furiously. "Premeditated attempted murder is punishable by death."

He ignored their pleading and dragged them to the town center, getting to work on their executions immediately.

* * *

Papyrus was certain his new law about public drunkenness wasn't winning him any more favor, but he didn't care. He had already voiced his distaste to his brother, who seemed shamed enough to keep his head down and work a little harder to not be a complete embarrassment.

Still, Papyrus kept a closer eye out for Sans after the elder Skeleton's community service was over, and things did not get better.

Sans didn't return to his apartment, even though Monsters didn't go anywhere NEAR it; instead, Papyrus would spot Sans's hunched form through the windows of Grillby's bar, though he would shrewdly see that no more than one drink was ever in Sans's hand. Good; it seemed that Sans was capable of intelligent decisions.

…..not so much later, when Papyrus's mole within Grillby's bar told him that Sans was renting out a closet in the bar to live in, and that several Monsters were scoping out the empty apartment waiting for a chance to get Sans alone again.

Oh, this would not do, not at all.

It was absolutely ridiculous; Papyrus may have been barely out of baby bones-age when Sans flipped his shit, but he still remembered the power Sans held; the ability to lift another Monster's soul and infuse ordinary objects with magic wasn't something many adolescent Monsters could do, considering Sans hadn't even hit magical maturity yet. Sans should be MORE than able to protect himself, inebriated or not.

So why, then, was Sans the weak-willed laughingstock of this backwater town?

Papyrus scowled as he made his way to Grillby's after learning about Sans's living situation; it seemed that with every step forward he made in this hellhole, Sans was DETERMINED to drag it two steps back. He stalked into the bar, grabbed Sans, and dragged him out, making a mental note to keep closer tabs on Grillby; he REALLY didn't like the way the Fire Monster looked at him sometimes.

He had seen a drink with Sans's meal, and pushed the smaller Skeleton slightly to test his balance; all was fine, and Papyrus could even see a spark of defiance in his eyelights as he glowered up at him, hand clenching by his side.

The motion gave Papyrus a small twitch in the back of his mind, recalling ANOTHER time when the Skeleton before him had that spark and preparedness to strike out. He smothered it back and grabbed the back of Sans's shirt, pulling him in the direction of his newly-finished house.

It wasn't homey by any standards; his downstairs was bare save for one chair and a set of brands and pokers on the hearthstone, as well as a wall lined with an assortment of weapons. On the floor in front of the fireplace was his dog beast, who raised its head and growled when they walked in. Papyrus silenced it with a look and dragged Sans to his equally-bare kitchen, shoving him back into a chair before turning to rummage through his drawers.

"It's unavoidable to keep the fact that we are brothers out of question," he said lowly, his voice full of distaste at the notion. "And that means everything that YOU do reflects on ME." He glanced over at Sans, who stiffened in the chair. "I will NOT have a drunk for a brother, I will NOT have a vagabond for a brother..." He despised how small and WEAK the elder Skeleton looked, sitting there like a child. "...and I WILL NOT HAVE A WEAK LITTLE PISSANT FOR A BROTHER."

He grabbed a large file from the drawer, turning around to face Sans. "It's all about image, Sans," he said, turning the file in his hand. "So let's SHARPEN that image."

Sans visibly sweated, leaning back in the chair. "...w...what...?" he said, staring at the file in Papyrus's hands. "...what are you gonna do with—" He yelped when Papyrus grabbed his skull and jerked it back.

"Open your mouth," Papyrus commanded, then growled when Sans's eyelights constricted, jaw going tight. "I SAID OPEN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, SANS, BEFORE I OPEN IT FOR YOU."

Sans let out a pathetic whimper and slowly lowered his jaw, and Papyrus wasted no time in honing in on a tooth and filing. Sans let out a strangled cry of pain and made a move to jerk away, but Papyrus clamped his hand around his skull tightly. "Unless you want me to get a bar gag, you'll STAY STILL," he growled, resuming his filing.

It took hours to do, when Papyrus had to pause several times to smack Sans into silence and let the smaller Skeleton spit out blood and saliva. When it was over, Sans looked close to passing out, but Papyrus was having nothing of it.

"Your shift starts in a half-hour," he said, washing his file off in the sink, giving Sans a sideways glance and seeing the look of agonized incredulousness on his face. "Rinse out your mouth and get to your post. I will not excuse a tardiness when I KNOW you're able to make it in time."

Not a moment after Sans left the house, Papyrus dropped the file in the sink and stared at it, his hands clenching tightly into the counter.

_What the fuck did he just DO!?_

He intended to bring Sans over and negotiate a living situation; as soon as Sans was in his house and looking so PATHETIC...

...he wanted the smaller Skeleton to SUFFER.

To SUFFER for being so weak.

To SUFFER for being so easy to maneuver.

To SUFFER for making Papyrus give a damn.

Papyrus pushed back from the sink and stalked upstairs, past his own bedroom—and the only real luxury he afforded himself—and to the spare room, back when Guards came in pairs until the Royal Guard decided not to keep wasting Guardsmen on this place. It was completely barren, and Papyrus originally had no use for it.

Well, now he did.

Goddamn it.

* * *

It seemed like a blink of an eye later, and Papyrus was looking at the spare bedroom which now had a mattress with a pillow and blanket, and a closet with a couple of brand-new outfits inside, and again he wondered _'What the fuck did I just do?'_.

All he could think about was Sans living in a closet, of Sans wearing threadbare, dirty torn clothing, and like Sans being previously small and weak-looking, and his incessant need to put chaos into order took control and remedied the problems. It was a nuisance that only got worse since he gave his puzzle back to Sans.

The pissant fool probably threw it away by now, and Papyrus was going to be hard-pressed to find a new one.

Still, he waited until Sans's shift ended, checking the clock every so often as he waited for Sans to come, knowing he'd be going to Grillby's first. He practically had to threaten the Fire Monster to relay the message to Sans without delay, but whatever got the job done. Sans arrived twenty minutes after shift change, and Papyrus could see he was close to passing out from the pain and exhaustion, which only sparked his ire. Even in a town who took the creed of the Underground closest to heart, he would think that Sans would be more used to staying awake to watch his own back.

He commented on Sans's laziness and informed him of the new living arrangement...and was met with silence. He turned and saw Sans with an odd expression on his face...one that almost looked disturbed and...

...ungrateful.

A flash of rage burst from his soul; how DARE Sans react with ungratefulness!? HOW FUCKING DARE HE!? "Is that ungratefulness I see on your face Sans?" he snapped, stalking over and grabbing Sans by the front of his shirt. "I replace those HIDEOUS excuses of clothing with something more SUITABLE!" He slammed Sans into the wall. "I even take steps to insure that you will not EMBARRASS yourself in this filthy excuse of a domicile, and you repay me with with UNGRATEFULNESS!?"

Sans sputtered out, "I...I AM grateful! REALLY, Papyrus I AM—!"

Papyrus saw red at the sound of his name coming from Sans's mouth, slamming Sans into the wall again. "WHAT did I say about how you should address me!?" he snapped, slamming Sans into the wall again before letting him drop. Sans sat slumped on the floor, a shaking, tearful mess. "Look at me," he hissed, clenching his fists tightly, letting out a growl when Sans did not. "I SAID LOOK AT ME!"

The sight of tears in Sans's eye sockets filled Papyrus with disgust, and the urge to just...HURT something...intensified. He turned on heel and walked over to his wall of weapons, taking down a short whip and cracking it before turning back to Sans.

"I think you need some TRAINING, Sans, to remind you of how your betters should be addressed."

* * *

It seemed that with proper encouragement, Sans truly WAS capable of being trained for the better.

Sans was dressed in better clothing which, paired with his newly-healed sharpened teeth, did wonders for his image. The elder Skeleton took more care into his upkeep, keeping his bones and clothes clean and even kept his teeth sharpened.

With Papyrus's micro-management, Sans was running on a clockwork schedule, not sleeping in or staying up too late when it was unneeded, and was never late for work, or for any errand Papyrus had him working on.

It couldn't even be considered favoritism, letting Sans stay with him. For all of his improvement, Sans was still a major work in progress, and Papyrus could only shudder to think what sort of conditioning living a decade in this place had done for Sans's unsavory bad habits. Ten years was a lot of junk to clear out of the gears before Sans would be a properly-functioning member of society, and Papyrus was more than willing for the challenge.

…..but why?

Papyrus often laid awake at night, staring up at the black void of the ceiling as he thought about it. Sans should not be worth the effort. The elder brother was weak, both in will and in mind; it was easier to train a dog beast than it was to train that wreck of a Monster into the most basic of functions, to obey the simplest of orders without fucking up in SOME way.

And yet, Papyrus kept at it. Kept trying to improve Sans, to make him stronger, to keep him on his toes, to make sure what happened at his old apartment never happened again.

All in spite of the fact that Sans had, deliberately and with full intention, broken Papyrus's spirit, trust, and capacity to love...truly, had broken Papyrus's heart.

Papyrus strove to shove such thoughts out of his mind as he made his rounds around Snowdin on Sans's day off, making sure everything was running smoothly, just for some sense of order in the chaos that was his mind at the moment. He passed by Grillby's, and paused. He could feel Sans's soul echo, though not IN Grillby's bar...but rather back behind it.

He silently walked around behind the bar, and began hearing sounds; none that he was unfamiliar with, and brought red back to his vision that he fought to quell down as he peered through a gap in the fence.

There, bent over a garbage can, was his older brother, sobbing and moaning incoherently as the Fire Monster thrust into him from behind.

It took every ounce of Papyrus's control to not completely lose it, unwilling to watch, but unable to look away as Sans's incoherent blubbering began to take form into words.

_"I'm sorry, Papyrus."_

_"I'm the worst fucking brother."_

_"I hate myself."_

_"I'm sorry, Papyrus."_

_"I did this to him."_

_"I let him get hurt."_

_"I'm sorry, Papyrus."_

_"I can't do anything right."_

_"I hate myself."_

_"I deserve this."_

_"I deserve to die."_

_"I'm sorry, Papyrus."_

_"I'm sorry, Papyrus."_

_"Papyrus."_

_"Papyrus."_

_"PAPYRUS!"_

Papyrus was back in his house before he was even aware of it, blinking hard and seeing his dog beast staring at him almost in confusion as to why he was there so early in the day. Papyrus numbly walked down to the basement, stared at the stone wall for a good few minutes, then let out a scream as he violently punched it, creating a cracked dent in the stone.

"GOD-FUCKING-DAMN IT!" he screamed, punching the wall again. "YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" Again. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!?" Again. "HOW DARE YOU!?" Again. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH WHAT IS MINE, YOU FLAME-RIDDEN PIECE OF SHIT!?"

Again.

"HOW DARE YOU LET HIM TOUCH YOU!?"

Again.

"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU SAY MY NAME!?"

Again.

"HOW DARE YOU!?"

Again.

And silence.

Papyrus stared at the cracked stone wall before putting his hand over his face, hysterical laughter rattling his rib cage as he fought to smother it down. The laughter turned into something between a groan and a growl as he leaned against the wall, his soul pulsing violently in his chest and pooling a hot mess of magic into his pelvis.

In the past ten years, adolescence included, Papyrus had never had the notion for sex. Ever. His father—may his bones be charring in Hell—had ruined that for him. He had not looked at another person with the inkling, let alone touched anyone.

But this.

The sight of his older brother, brokenly sobbing and calling his baby brother's name, was doing it for him.

What should have been a pleasurable sensation, one created from a desire to mate, was only growing ugly, making his magic turn from blood-red to nearly black, the magic shifting around almost desperately, taking form into something that once haunted his nightmares for years, but now took the form of his desire.

It wasn't the desire to mate.

It was the desire to TAKE.

To OWN.

To conquer and make Sans HIS and HIS ALONE.

And to make him enjoy every.

Fucking.

Moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna have a short wrap-up chapter after this one.


	5. Which Comes Back To You

It was no longer something he even bothered to deny if asked (though no one really had the grit to ask him anyway).

He cared.

He cared more than he should, in WAYS he shouldn't, about Sans.

It was...healing, at first, the beginning of their new relationship. A way that put his mind back into proper working order, like his puzzle cube used to, only he was putting the greatest chaos in his life into the order he wanted.

Subservient.

Obedient.

HIS.

He hadn't lied when he told Sans he was going to break him and make him ENJOY it. He wanted Sans to be torn apart and remade in a way Papyrus would approve of. For the entire night and well into the morning, Papyrus indulged himself in every new, practically virginal, whim, letting his instincts and magic do most of the guidance, but by gods if they weren't on point.

By the end of it all, Sans was nearly unconscious and still squirming for more and Papyrus was exhausted, but full of a new form of power, and one he wanted to express in every way possible.

And express he did.

Incorporating his passion for inflicting pain into his new sex life was mutually beneficial, since Sans seemed to be a craver of punishment, submitting himself to every whim Papyrus had to explore. Papyrus knew of Sans's 1 HP and worked his way around it, but it seemed nothing he did upset that precious balance, and Sans knew it. So the elder brother opened himself willingly to Papyrus's infliction of pain with such...

Trust.

Papyrus had that revelation after a not-so-casual conversation with Grillby, who, as it turned out, had some form of actual affection for the elder Skeleton brother and asked Papyrus if he would 'let the little dog off the leash and let him come over for a drink sometime'.

How the conversation had gone from extending Grillby's alcohol permit to Sans was beyond Papyrus's comprehension, but then Grillby made a passing comment about not having to worry about Sans getting into unsavory behavior because "You know, you could stand to trust him as much as he trusts you."

Trust.

Papyrus HATED that word. It was a word that was as broken as every promise that had ever been made to him, and it hadn't ever crossed his mind that Sans TRUSTED him with anything, let alone his own life.

But he looked at it from every side; Sans trusted Papyrus to pull back before permanent damage was done. Sans trusted Papyrus to keep him out of trouble. Sans trusted Papyrus with his soul every time it was bared during their lustmaking, to not shatter it in his grip and instead use it to punish and pleasure him.

Papyrus was no fool. He saw the way Sans would look at him when he wasn't cowering under Papyrus's fists. It was a look of WANT. Of DESIRE. Of the same emotion he once had when they were both young— _love._

That disgusting emotion that had only caused Papyrus pain and agony when it was ripped away and betrayed. LOVE served him much better in life than love did. For Sans to allow himself to indulge in that agony made him the biggest masochist in the Underground, knowing that Papyrus would never...

…reciprocate.

Love him back.

Papyrus spent hours of his personal downtime in his home, absently petting his dog beast's head as he stared into the fireplace and pondered over the enigma that was his brother when the door opened and Sans walked in. The scent of blood and marrow reached him, and he turned around to see Sans holding a hand to his bleeding mouth, his bones scraped and bruised and clothes ratted up.

A protective instinct surged in Papyrus as he jumped up from his chair and hurried over, any demands of who did what, and in what way should they die stopping halfway out his mouth when he saw the almost...satisfied look on Sans's face. "What the hell happened?" he demanded, clenching his hands.

Sans wiped his mouth, and Papyrus saw that Sans was missing his upper-left canine tooth. "Got jumped by Rufus," he said, chuckling softly. "Sonofabitch got drunk thought I'd be an easy kill. Punched me a few times, kicked my tooth out..." He groped around for a cloth to stave off the bleeding. "Bein' the RESPONSIBLE sentry, I beat his ass down and threw him in the jailhouse for public drunkenness and unauthorized fighting." He abandoned his search for a clean cloth and instead took a folded piece of paperwork from his pocket. "Here's the report. Sorry if there's blood on it."

Papyrus just listened to Sans speak, hearing a bite and confidence he'd never heard in his brother's voice before and seeing the gleam of pride in his eyelights. Sans had stood up for himself and taken down another Monster on his own and followed the laws Papyrus set out to do so, something Papyrus hadn't seen in his experience, or heard of from Sans's ten years here.

Sans turned to look up at Papyrus, the bright gleam in his eyes dimming slightly, his expression going from satisfied to almost...it was like Sans's whole face was screaming _'did I do good, Boss? Are you proud? I'm not weak, I'm not useless!'_

Papyrus recognized that look.

It was the look he remembered having when he was a baby bones, holding up a new puzzle or math page to Sans, asking for approval.

Papyrus stood there in silence before taking Sans by the arm and pulling him into the kitchen, wetting a cloth and wiping off Sans's dirty skull. "I just bought that jacket and already it's managed to get torn and filthy," he said stiffly, feeling Sans's skull flinch under his hands. "...you may decide his manner of execution first thing tomorrow."

Sans said nothing, letting Papyrus wash his skull off. Papyrus dabbed around the missing tooth, feeling his jaw tighten. Sans was a full-grown adult Skeleton, and teeth didn't grow back easily, even with magic. And with Sans at 1 HP, he was sure it was gone forever.

_'That piece of shit Monster broke him,'_ he hissed in his mind as he finished cleaning the blood from Sans's face. _'I'll pull every tooth out of his goddamn head, empty out his eye sockets, and stuff the teeth in their place—!'_

"'m sorry, Boss."

Sans's voice snapped Papyrus out of his thoughts, looking down and seeing Sans's confident posture from just five minutes ago shrink down, eyelights dimming and downcast. "'m sorry...he got a cheap shot on me, an' I didn't respond fast enough...'m fuckin' useless, fuckin' weak useless GARBAGE—"

He cut off with a sharp gasp when Papyrus's teeth clanked to his. Pain in his mandible be damned, Sans instantly went into submissive mode, his jaw going lax and his body relaxing to allow Papyrus to mold and move him like a puppet to his will.

_So trustingly._

Papyrus pushed Sans away, gripping his hand into the counter, not even looking at Sans to know that the elder brother was confused as to why Papyrus would start something and then end it so quickly. "...B...Boss..."

"Get out."

"...Boss—"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, SANS!"

Papyrus didn't look up, hearing Sans sprint out of the kitchen and out of the house. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eye sockets, but still couldn't get that LOOK out of his head...that look of desperation of approval, of pride, of love, of TRUST...

Sans trusted him to take care of him.

But more importantly, Sans still loved him.

Papyrus staggered out of the kitchen, finding himself in Sans's bare bedroom, looking around silently. It was in the same condition he had left it in when he first made it up; a mattress with just a single sheet and pillow, a closet without a door with clothes _lovingly_ hanging up, tidy as a pin as Papyrus liked it. Nothing out of place...

….except for a thick crack in the wood paneling in the closet wall.

Papyrus frowned, having never noticed anything like that during his weekly inspections to make sure Sans wasn't delving back into slob behavior. He knelt down and ran his hand over the crack, pushing on the paneling and finding that it slid to the side; a secret nook in the closet, then. It had obviously been here since the house was built, for safekeeping of documents or the such.

Inside the crevice was a cardboard box that Papyrus fished out and quietly opened, taking miscellaneous items out.

A large bottle of Grillby's top-shelf liquor, still unopened, was the first thing on top and Papyrus let that one slide. For now. Under the bottle was a stack of miscellaneous papers, and when he pulled them out to look he saw that they were all papers HE had worked on when he was a child, tidy handwriting and equations and all, even his name signed at the bottom like some sort of self-imposed stamp of approval.

Underneath the papers was a child's striped sweater that Papyrus instantly recognized as his own, and the one he vividly recalled wearing the day Sans scarred his skull; there was even a stain of marrow around the collar. He pulled it out to look at it, pausing when something dropped out from being wrapped up in the sweater.

His puzzle cube.

Papyrus stared at the cube for the longest time, his mind shifting around like the rows of colored blocks that remained unsolved like the puzzle on the floor in front of him. Sans had kept the puzzle.

Sans kept all of this...old math sheets, his sweater...even old puzzle books that remained untouched at the bottom of the box, things that Sans must have taken from their old home back in the Hotlands and kept for ten years. Reminders of him. Reminders of Papyrus, like someone would keep after the owners of the items had dusted...

...and it occurred to him that Sans must have thought Papyrus was dead for those ten years. Guard training was a bloodbath that even teenage or adult trainees barely stood a chance of surviving; for a ten-year-old newly-injured Skeleton Monster with no previous survival training...

Even if Papyrus had died in training, there was no way for Sans to receive the dust that would have been left, so all he had was...this. A box of puzzle books, work sheets, and a personal item that still smelled of Hotland air, of childhood and happier times before it all fell apart; a reminder, a constant punishment that Sans losing his brother was HIS fault...

Papyrus put the items back into the box and returned it to the hidden nook, walking out of Sans's room and closing the door before leaning against it, feeling the weight of a thousand sleepless nights, of every happy childhood memory and that one night that tore it all to pieces push down on his body and weigh down his soul with something he had forgotten for a decade.

Care.

He CARED about Sans.

He CARED whether or not Sans was hurt.

He CARED about never going so far with Sans that he couldn't be put back together after.

He spent ten years throwing away any scrap of affection he once had for Sans, only to start piling it up again, being the one to take care of his brother instead of the other way around; being the one to hurt his brother instead of the other way around.

But Sans endured, begged, clung, and crawled back for more because...

…..because...he'd spent ten years thinking that dead brothers can't touch him.

Papyrus stalked down the stairs, grabbing the door and jerking it open to go find Sans—

Only for Sans to tip backwards with an utter lack of grace, having been leaning against the door that whole time like a pet waiting for its master to let it back in. Sans blinked, staring upside-down up at Papyrus, his cheekbones turning red. "I...I didn't mean to...I...I'm sorry, Boss, I—"

"Sit up."

Sans sat up on command, scrambling to his feet, his posture curled up on itself, and for once, Papyrus hated it. He had seen Sans—the REAL Sans—stand upright with pride and satisfaction of being able to endure a beating and rise up to protect himself; he had heard the bark Sans had to his bite, a spark of the brother that had scarred him shining through, but this time with intent to project his rage toward others while showing his little brother that he was okay, he was strong, he wasn't going to let anything hurt him or Papyrus...

Papyrus grabbed Sans's jacket and dragged him inside, shutting the door, locking it, giving his dog beast a hand signal to keep watch over the door, and then picked his small brother up, carrying him upstairs toward his own bedroom.

Sans was silent this whole time, his body an odd mix of stiffness at the unfamiliar gesture and lax at the instinctive submissiveness that had been beaten and fucked into him for several months now. Papyrus walked into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and dropped Sans onto his bed, his eyelights glowing in the dark room. Sans made a move to take off his clothes, but Papyrus smacked his hands away and pinned him back on the bed, looming over him.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Sans frowned at the odd question, an anxious sweat breaking out on his skull. "...I...don't understand..." he replied softly, flinching when Papyrus let out a growl.

"Did. You. Enjoy. It," Papyrus repeated, the hand splayed next to Sans's head clenching the duvet slightly. "Did you enjoy surviving a beating from another Monster? Did you enjoy getting up and showing him who the superior breed is? DID YOU ENJOY BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF HIM?"

Sans's cheekbones gained a slight flush as he squirmed under Papyrus's sharp gaze. "...yes," he replied softly.

"What?"

"...yes."

"DID YOU ENJOY IT?"

"YES! I FUCKING ENJOYED IT! HE'S BEEN A FUCKING PRICK SINCE I GOT HERE, AND I FUCKING LOVED PUNCHING HIS SMUG FACE!" Sans shouted, that biting spark returning to his eyelights for a few brief moments before dimming and constricting. "...'m sorry, Boss, I didn't—"

"You did," Papyrus growled, reaching down and jerking Sans's shorts open, pulling them off and throwing them to the floor. "You MEANT to shout because you MEANT what you SAID." He took Sans's jaw in his hand, forcing Sans to look at him. "You are my toy, Sans," he practically purred. "You are my toy, my pet, my body to fuck...and you are my brother."

Sans's mess of perplexed emotions was interrupted by Papyrus's tendrils of magic curling around his legs, doing more squeezing and massaging rather than pinning down, though. The hand around his jaw tightened.

"Do you understand, Sans?" Papyrus continued, his eyelights going sharp. "You are MY toy." His free hand wrapped around Sans's spine, making the smaller Skeleton let out a yelp of shock and pleasure. "MY pet." He squeezed and relaxed his hand fluidly, watching Sans's flush grow deeper. "MINE to fuck, MINE to inflict pain on, MY BROTHER." He growled, pressing his teeth to Sans's, forming a tongue that slithered into the gap of Sans's missing tooth for a moment before pulling back, taking note of Sans's desperate leaning inward to keep it going, and pushed him back down again.

"That MEANS, Sans, that I will be very, VERY displeased if I see you EVER yielding to another Monster."

Sans arched off the bed with a loud moan when the tendrils curled around his constructed cock, squeezing at the same pace as the hand around his spine. "FUCK—B-BOSS—PAPYRUS—!"

Papyrus bit over Sans's jaw, reaching down and tugging his pants open. "Who do you belong to?" he demanded, biting down on Sans's clavicle. Sans arched his chest to Papyrus's mouth, hissing.

"You—SHIT—" he swore with Papyrus bit down harder, cracking the bone.

"I want a NAME, Sans!" he growled, biting down again.

"Pa—Papyrus...!" Sans yelped, reaching up to blindly grope for Papyrus's shoulders, only to have both wrists pinned over his head by Papyrus's free hand as the other squeezed and stroked Sans's spine. "PAPYRUS—!"

Papyrus stilled his hand, his tendrils slowly vanishing from around Sans's body, making the smaller Skeleton's eyelights sharpen slightly with a returning lucidity. His bones trembled, soul pulsing in his rib cage from being close to orgasm only to have it stalled. "...B...Papyrus...?"

"Beg for me, Sans," Papyrus growled, his razor-sharp teeth grazing the side of Sans's skull, eliciting a violent shudder down Sans's spine that Papyrus could feel in his hand. "Beg for me and mean it. Say you're MINE, and mean it. Say you want this and MEAN IT..." His hand unclenched from Sans's spine, making the smaller Skeleton almost wail at the loss of contact.

"...or, if you don't want it, or don't mean it, say nothing," Papyrus continued, his voice oddly void of its normal authoritative tone and sounding much younger than it normally did. "I have already broken you, Sans. I have already made you moan and beg like a common whore, all while giving you no out and no choice but to make you beg for me to give you release."

He sat up, his eyelights as faraway as his voice, sitting on the edge of his bed and staring blankly into the darkness of his room, giving off the eerily unresponsive, disassociative vibe he had the month after his skull scarring. "If you don't want this...there's your out." He vaguely gestured for his bedroom door. "If you don't want this, I will never touch you again. I promise."

There was nothing but a screaming silence in the room for the longest time before Papyrus heard Sans sit up. There was a beat of more silence, and then Papyrus felt a pair of arms curl around his shoulders, and felt a skull press against the back of his scapula.

"...I want you to fuck me," Sans said, his voice muffled by Papyrus's shirt. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to hurt me." His hands clenched tightly. "I want you to pin me down and choke me and bruise me. I want you to scar me like I scarred you...because...be...god fucking DAMN it, Papyrus..." He let out a muffled sob. "Only you can do this shit and MAKE ME LOVE YOU FOR IT...! SO PLEASE!" His phalanges clawed at Papyrus's shirt. "PLEASE, BOSS! FUCK ME! HURT ME! USE ME, BOSS, PLEASE—!"

And Papyrus obliged.

* * *

It wasn't a change that was explicitly spoken, but they both knew it was there.

The dynamic of their relationship changed. There were signals now, of whether or not Sans was in the mood; for the most part he WAS, but Sans still had bad days triggered by seemingly nothing, where his narcolepsy and mood flared and he had no other duty but to get to work on time and get home.

It was a tentative trust; Papyrus TRUSTED Sans not to abuse the signal for 'I need the standard fare day', and Sans never did.

They had a safeword now, for when Sans absolutely couldn't psychologically or physically handle something Papyrus wanted. It too was rarely used, and usually coincided with one of Sans's bad days, where touches from behind and tendrils of magic were too much to bear as horrible flashbacks to his own ruined childhood flared.

In those days, Papyrus found himself empathizing completely; seeing a small form having a panic attack over touch or magic appendages would be enough to dissipate his own mood, and instead the evening would be spent in almost domestic peace and silence.

In those nights, Sans would curl up on his mattress in his own room with his day clothes still on and his hood pulled over his head in an attempt to muffle the screams from the nightmares he was sure to have. Papyrus would lie awake in his own bed, hearing the screaming, and being unable to do anything about it without making it worse. His dog beast posted outside of Sans's room as the one shred of security Sans had would have to do on those nights.

But nights where there were no signals, no panic attacks, no triggers, no safewords...those were nights to live for. They would begin after dinner with a gleam of good-anxious anticipation in Sans's eyelights and end with Sans sobbing and shaking and Papyrus thoroughly satisfied. He would undo any restraints—if there were any—from Sans, heal over the wounds with his magic, and just lay with him until the trembling stopped and the smaller Skeleton weakly dragged himself over to Papyrus's side of the bed and curled up into his younger brother's side, his frame relaxed within the safe crook of Papyrus's arm.

Papyrus was done with broken promises and misguided trust; and there was nothing but bare truth between him and Sans. There were days when Sans would call Papyrus every insult in the book—sadist, megalomaniac, dirty brother-raper—and Papyrus would take the insults and return the favor with beatings and insults of his own—weakling, masochistic freak, soul-crusher—and there would be no apologies for it.

It was a mutual understanding, and if they could trust to take what the other slung their way, then yes, Sans could curl into Papyrus's side and trust to have a good night's sleep, just as Papyrus could trust Sans to be the only Monster in the Underground who wouldn't put a weapon through his soul whilst he slept in turn.

It was sick.

It was cruel.

It was wrong.

But at the end of the day, when he had someone who could do to him what he did to them and still sleep within soul's reach of them, there was nothing more right in his life he could depend on.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is over now, but since I have a compulsive need to wrap my fics up into perfect packages, I'm going to be putting up a three-part story detailing an ending to this Underfell universe with special guest stars Frisk, Flowey, and all the others you've come to know and fear. I'm thinking it might be called 'How They Fell', or something along those lines, so if you're interested, keep an eye out for it! Thank you for reading this and so much love for your comments and encouragements!


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